


Time Enough

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-23
Updated: 2007-02-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: During the mission to the Delphic Expanse, Trip and Malcolm’s relationship hits an all-time low, and they both turn to others for comfort and solace. But when Enterprise is thrown back in time while traversing a subspace corridor, the crew soon realise they will need to become a generational ship in order to complete their mission.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Beta: SueC  
  
A/N: The discussion we had a while ago on EntSTSlash about the problems in the S3 episode â€˜E-Squaredâ€™ got me thinking, and this is the result - my fix for the episode, if you like. Also, I donâ€™t know what it is with me and deathfics recently, but unfortunately we know Tucker died when Lorian was fourteen in this episode, so he does in this fic too. Doctor Phloxâ€™s opening words are a rephrasing of those spoken by Dr Pulaski in the TNG episode â€˜Up The Long Ladderâ€™.  


* * *

*Prologue - February 6th, 2154*

â€œSo, Lieutenant, who did you end up with, on the other *Enterprise*?â€ Hoshi inquired as Malcolm joined her and Travis at their table in the mess hall. â€œDid you get married, have kids?â€

The ship had been buzzing with gossip about who had married whom ever since theyâ€™d met the other *Enterprise*; the one that had been thrown into the past during their trip through the subspace corridor, and was now populated by their descendants.

â€œEr â€¦ no, actually I didnâ€™t,â€ Malcolm answered, hesitating a little. Heâ€™d always done his best to keep his personal life private, even on *Enterprise*, but he was certain Hoshi must at least suspect he was currently involved with someone, and was not-so-subtly probing for information. â€œApparently the Reed family line came to a rather unceremonious end,â€ he said. â€œYouâ€™d think on a ship quite this size I would have been able to find someone â€¦â€

Heâ€™d searched the other *Enterprise*â€™s records, and found exactly what heâ€™d expected: heâ€™d never married, and it seemed that even his current, purely physical, relationship was doomed to fail. He assumed, since heâ€™d never married, that heâ€™d never had any progeny, but heâ€™d made a brief, fruitless search for any children bearing the Reed name, just in case. But it seemed that with the exception of the captainâ€™s, children tended to take their mothersâ€™ surnames. There were plenty of Cutlers, MacKenzies, Kellys and Coles, and even Lorian had followed his motherâ€™s tradition, and had no surname at all. Archerâ€™s name had obviously carried a certain cachet among his descendants, but that didnâ€™t seem to apply to Tucker, or Mayweather, or any of the other men.

â€œWomen only make up a third of the crew,â€ Hoshi said, clearly attempting to console him. â€œThere were bound to be a few bachelors left over.â€

â€œAnd it would appear Iâ€™m going to be one of them,â€ Malcolm said, the weight of the knowledge heavy on his shoulders.

â€œIâ€™m on duty in a few minutes,â€ Travis said, sensitive as always to Malcolmâ€™s need for privacy.

â€œMe too,â€ Hoshi said apologetically as they stood up and left the table. â€œSee you later, sir.â€

~~~

*One hundred and seventeen years in the past*

â€œThere are seventy-six humans remaining on board, only twenty-four of whom are female,â€ Phlox said, glancing around the briefing room table, meeting the eyes of each senior officer in turn until he finally came to rest on the captain. He wanted them to be absolutely clear about what their leader was proposing. â€œThat is enough to create a viable genetic base - barely - but the broader the base, the stronger and healthier the resultant society. If you plan to turn *Enterprise* into a generational ship, Iâ€™m afraid monogamous marriage will no longer be possible. In order to create a replacement crew, each female crewmember will need to have at least three children, and I recommend they do so by three different men.â€

â€œWhat about you? And Tâ€™Pol?â€ the captain said. â€œYouâ€™re part of this crew as well.â€

â€œIn theory I would be happy to contribute to the shipâ€™s gene pool, Captain, and Iâ€™m sure Tâ€™Pol can see the â€¦ logic of the situation,â€ Phlox answered delicately, noting the minimal inclination of Tâ€™Polâ€™s head, indicating her assent. â€œHowever you should be aware that both Denobulan and Vulcan reproductive processes are significantly different from those of humans, and Iâ€™m unsure whether our DNA could ever be successfully combined with yours. If in due course our DNA is required, I will of course undertake the appropriate research into interspecies mating, but in the meantime I suggest that the human crewmembers begin to â€¦ procreate among themselves as soon as possible.â€

â€œBut itâ€™s difficult for humans to separate sex and love, Doctor,â€ Travis interjected. â€œAnd our children are usually born out of loving relationships.â€ At the Ensignâ€™s words Phlox noticed Commander Tuckerâ€™s eyes flicker first towards Tâ€™Pol, and then to Lieutenant Reed, before the engineer returned to staring fixedly at the table in front of him. The young man was clearly not coping well with this situation. Reed too seemed troubled, his attention focussed on Commander Tucker, but shifting occasionally to Major Hayes. Phlox made a mental note to keep an eye on both of them.

â€œYet you are clearly familiar with the concept of - how do you put it? Casual sex?â€ he replied to the helmsman. â€œOtherwise the female members of the crew would not be so anxious to have me renew their contraceptive shots on time, hm?â€

â€œAre you saying you want me to encourage casual sex?â€ the captain asked, clearly scandalised. Obviously the man had had a very different vision of his generational ship. â€œWhat about â€¦ artificial insemination?â€

â€œArtificial insemination on this scale would be impractical, Captain,â€ Phlox countered, â€œnot to mention highly impersonal. I believe natural reproduction within polyandrous relationships is the most sensible way to proceed at this point. And besides, among a close knit group of individuals who already have a high degree of affection and respect for one another I canâ€™t see why healthy expressions of sexuality should do any harm. Why, on Denobula â€¦â€

â€œWe arenâ€™t Denobulans, Doctor!â€ Archer exploded, rising from his seat and stalking towards the window.

â€œThen I suggest you start aping our mating practices, Captain,â€ Phlox replied, his voice uncharacteristically stern, â€œbecause if you continue to cling to your human morality, your crew will most likely die out before you can complete your mission.â€

~~~

â€œWhat about same-sex relationships?â€

Trip hadnâ€™t really been concentrating on the briefing going on around him, but his head snapped up at Hoshiâ€™s question. Involuntarily his eyes flicked across the table towards Malcolm, then guiltily slid away from the steady grey gaze he found levelled at him.

â€œSome of the crew already have steady partners,â€ Hoshi continued, turning to the captain. â€œIâ€™m sorry, sir, I know fraternization is against regulations, but on a mission like this itâ€™s a fact of life.â€

â€œYouâ€™ll still be able to form loving relationships with whomever you choose, Ensign, Phlox assured her. â€œAll Iâ€™m saying is that you will need to learn to separate that, to some extent, from procreation. Now, for heterosexual couples it might prove easiest if the womanâ€™s first child were by her chosen life-partner, but for same-sex couples, especially males â€¦ well, while it is technically possible for them to have children of their own, I believe it would be best not to expend our limited resources on artificial reproduction when there is an alternative â€¦â€

Phloxâ€™s voice rambled on as Tripâ€™s gaze fell on Tâ€™Pol. No artificial reproduction. No kids for Tâ€™Pol, then, if sheâ€™d ever wanted any. The thought strayed unbidden across his mind, but if he was honest with himself, he was still having problems processing all this: with being thrown back in time, unable to return, and with the idea of spending the rest of his life waltzing around in the Expanse in a generational ship. He was fizzing with frustration at being thwarted so close to completing their mission, and even after their recent rapprochement with Degra, a part of him still wanted to find the Xindi in this century and blow them to smithereens - at least that way they wouldnâ€™t be able to kill his sister a hundred years from now. But the capâ€™n had swiftly vetoed that idea, along with Malcolmâ€™s more sensible suggestion of making contact with the Xindi in the here and now and educating them about humanity in an effort to make the idea of future mass murder unthinkable.

â€œItâ€™s much harder to kill someone once youâ€™ve seen their face,â€ Malcolm had succinctly pointed out. But Archer had muttered something about contaminating the timeline and dismissed the idea.

Heâ€™d even rejected Tâ€™Polâ€™s suggestion of settling on the nearest uninhabited planet and raising their families there until it the time came for their descendents to stop the probe. Instead, for some reason best known to himself, Jon was insisting on following this harebrained scheme. Trip felt like he barely knew the man any longer.

He shook himself, trying to focus on the briefing, but Malcolm caught his attention again. Malcolm â€¦ the man who could have been, should have been his lover, but for his own stupid behaviour over the last ten months. Theyâ€™d been on the cusp of something, before the Xindi attack. Their friendship had been about to turn into something much more, but in his pain and grief over Lizzie heâ€™d turned his back on the love and support the other man had offered, afraid to give himself, afraid to allow other, more tender emotions temper his desire for vengeance. It was just beginning to dawn on him how much heâ€™d lost.

He tore his eyes away from the man, only to have his gaze fall on Tâ€™Pol once more. He wasnâ€™t entirely sure how heâ€™d ended up in such a strange relationship with the Vulcan woman - if it could be called a relationship. Theyâ€™d had something close to friendship at the time of the Xindi attack, but between neuro-pressure and Sim and everything theyâ€™d been through in the Expanse, somehow theyâ€™d ended up having sex. It hadnâ€™t been great - a release of tension more than anything. Afterwards heâ€™d felt filthy. Soiled. Used. Back in his own quarters, heâ€™d torn off his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water as hot as he could physically bear it, anxious to wash the stink of her off his body. And as heâ€™d replayed the events in his mind heâ€™d realised she must have planned the whole thing - there had been no other reason for her to be naked under her robe. Sheâ€™d always worn her pyjamas for their previous neuro-pressure sessions. Sheâ€™d deliberately set him up. Sheâ€™d used her relationship with Sim to bait him into admitting he felt some attraction for her, and then sheâ€™d seduced him. He couldnâ€™t believe heâ€™d fallen for it, had allowed her to manipulate him so completely. His only excuse was that heâ€™d wanted so badly to be with someone, anyone â€¦ Actually, not just anyone. Amanda and Tâ€™Pol had both been substitutes for the one person he knew he would never be close to again.

And ironically the whole episode had made him realise how much he missed the closeness heâ€™d shared with Malcolm. But he knew the other man was lost to him now. They still clung desperately to what remained of their friendship, but there was nothing else any more. Malcolm had closed his heart, and if the rumours were true, had recently become involved with someone else. Trip couldnâ€™t blame him for that. It was the price he had paid.

~~~

*The following morning*

The idea of the generational ship didnâ€™t get any better for having slept on it, Malcolm thought as he sat in the heavily damaged mess hall with Trip. They still habitually ate their meals together, even if their conversation could be somewhat strained at times. As difficult as it was, neither man could bear to completely abandon their friendship. Theyâ€™d been talking about the various couples on board, taking bets on who would be the first to produce a child.

â€œMy moneyâ€™s on Kelly and Rostov,â€ Trip said. â€œTheyâ€™ve been seeinâ€™ each other practically since we launched.â€

â€œMm â€¦ theyâ€™re very young,â€ Malcolm mused, taking a sip of his tea. â€œI think Hess and Corporal Romero are more likely. Lara seems about ready to settle down. Unless you and Tâ€™Pol beat them to it,â€ he added nonchalantly. He knew he was being malicious, but the knowledge that Trip had lied to him about his relationship with Tâ€™Pol all those weeks ago still stung.

Trip scowled. â€œAre you seeinâ€™ Hayes?â€ he asked bluntly, his tone accusatory.

Malcolm gave a noncommittal grunt and continued to eat his breakfast.

â€œMalcolm?â€ Trip pressed more harshly.

â€œWhatâ€™s it to you?â€ Malcolm snapped, throwing Tripâ€™s own words back at him, the ones heâ€™d used when Malcolm had asked him about Tâ€™Pol. Trip just stared at him, mouth hanging open in disbelief. â€œI have work to do,â€ Malcolm said tersely, pain and regret suddenly overwhelming him. He rose abruptly from the table and clattered his cutlery onto his plate, and then placed it in the recycler and stalked out of the room. He and Trip were nothing to each other - not any more, he reminded himself viciously as he headed towards the armoury. It was none of Tripâ€™s business whom Malcolm was seeing.

And yes, if sticking his cock up Hayesâ€™ arse on a regular basis could be termed â€˜seeing each otherâ€™, thatâ€™s exactly what they were doing.

They werenâ€™t lovers, not in any true sense of the word. They didnâ€™t talk much, beyond a few pleasantries. They didnâ€™t sleep together. They didnâ€™t even use each otherâ€™s first names. Yet following their bare knuckle fist-fight, and soon afterwards the incident with the insectoid hatchery, they had learned to trust each other. And every few days Hayes turned up at Malcolmâ€™s quarters, dropped his pants, spread his legs, and allowed Malcolm to fuck him. Malcolm didnâ€™t know why, and he didnâ€™t ask. Sometimes they kissed a little beforehand. Sometimes they held each other for a while afterwards. Sometimes Malcolm even remembered not to gasp Tripâ€™s name as he came.

It was stress relief, nothing more. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with Trip.

~~~

*Three weeks later*

â€œWe canâ€™t keep doing this,â€ Hayes said. He was lying, naked and spent, in Reedâ€™s narrow bunk, the lieutenantâ€™s sweaty body plastered against his back.

â€œI know.â€ But Reedâ€™s arm tightened around his chest, and he could feel the man nuzzling the back of his neck. Reed was doing this more and more often now; lingering in bed, spooning against him, holding him after theyâ€™d made â€¦ after sex. Theyâ€™d begun as two soldiers taking comfort in each other amidst the horror of war, but things had changed now that theyâ€™d become stranded in the past. They were no longer in immediate peril, their liaison no longer fuelled by the heat of battle, and emotion had begun to creep into their relationship. He could tell that Reed was one step away from asking him to stay the night. And Hayes was one step away from falling in love.

It would be a mistake. Reed was compelling, intriguing, a passionate and inventive lover, but Hayes knew that this shy, complex man would never love him. Not while he remained under the spell of Commander Iâ€™ll-fuck-anything-on-two-legs Tucker.

Hayes sighed as he recalled how their relationship had begun, how with one wry, dry, humorous remark theyâ€™d moved beyond antagonism and found a new grudging respect and, in Hayesâ€™ case, an unexpected attraction.

â€œThink weâ€™re dismissed?â€ Reed had quipped as they stood in the captainâ€™s ready room, having beaten the crap out of each other a couple of hours earlier. Phlox had called the captain to sickbay for one final interview with the trans-dimensional alien, and the man had stalked out, leaving them alone. The words were a chink in Reedâ€™s armour, in the faÃ§ade of hostility heâ€™d maintained ever since Hayes and his team of MACOs had come on board. It wasnâ€™t the funniest thing Hayes had ever heard, but coming from Mr Personality it was practically a stand-up routine, and heâ€™d begun to understand what Sato and Mayweather were talking about when theyâ€™d spoken of Reedâ€™s quirky sense of humour.

Hayes had glanced over and caught Reedâ€™s eye, and a brief snort of laughter had escaped him. Then a giggle. And the next thing heâ€™d known they had both collapsed against Archerâ€™s desk, clinging to each other for support as gales of completely inappropriate laughter overwhelmed them. It didnâ€™t last long, and as theyâ€™d caught their breath Hayes had glanced up and found himself gazing into Reedâ€™s incredible grey-blue eyes.

Looking back, he could never be sure who had moved first, but time had seemed to slow as theyâ€™d leaned towards each other. Hayes could feel the warmth of Reedâ€™s hand on his biceps, sliding across his shoulder, coming up behind his head and into his hair, and he had closed his eyes, half in shame and half in anticipation, thrilling as Reedâ€™s mouth had closed over his. It had felt so wrong, and yet so right, to be kissing Reed at that moment. Theyâ€™d tasted each other, careful of their bruised lips, deepening the kiss as their tongues wound together. He could feel Reedâ€™s hard, muscled body, lean and strong under the blue Starfleet coverall, just as it had been when they were fighting earlier. Theyâ€™d kissed desperately, breathlessly, devouring each other, but at last Reed had pulled back, reluctantly ending the kiss.

â€œMy quarters, I think,â€ Reed had said, pupils dilated with pleasure and one side of his mouth curving in an attractive half-smile.

Hayes had just nodded, once, in agreement.

Hayes turned in the bed until they were face to face and kissed Reed, holding on, pressing their lips together until the kiss was returned. They stayed like that for a long time.

â€œI canâ€™t be the lover you want,â€ he said sadly, gazing into Reedâ€™s eyes and brushing his fingers through dark hair as he drew back, â€œand I wonâ€™t be a substitute.â€

â€œI heard an old song once,â€ Reed said, with a smile that on anyone else would have been wistful. â€œIf you canâ€™t be with the one you love â€¦â€

â€œâ€¦ love the one youâ€™re with?â€ Hayes shook his head. â€œI donâ€™t think so. Not when heâ€™s still here, haunting you.â€

He rose from the bed, Reed watching him as he gathered his clothes and pulled them on. When he was dressed, he leaned down for one final kiss.

â€œIâ€™m sorry, Malcolm,â€ he whispered, â€œI just canâ€™t do this any more.â€ And then he turned away, and left the room without a backward glance.

~~~

*Six months later*

â€œLieutenant - Malcolm, may I have a word with you?â€

Malcolm stopped in the corridor outside his quarters and waited for Hoshi to catch up with him. â€œOf course, Ensign. What is it?â€

â€œItâ€™s â€¦ kind of personal. Can we go inside?â€

He opened the door and allowed her to precede him into the small cabin. He offered her his chair and then sat on his bunk, watching her as she fidgeted nervously.

At last she spoke. â€œI came to ask you â€¦ that is, to see if youâ€™d be interested in having a child with me,â€ she said haltingly, staring at the deck until the very end, when at last she found the courage to raise her head and look him straight in the eye.

Malcolm was taken aback. This was the last thing heâ€™d expected, and he didnâ€™t know how to respond. He liked Hoshi, of course, and he respected her abilities and her diligence in the face of some very difficult situations. In a way he felt like her older brother: heâ€™d watched her grow from a scared but brilliant young recruit into a strong, capable woman. He even found her attractive, in an academic sort of way, but his heart was already given elsewhere, and hers â€¦

â€œWhat does Amanda think of the idea?â€ he said. Hoshiâ€™s nascent relationship with the MACO corporal had come as a surprise to many, including Trip, who had unceremoniously dumped the young woman in favour of Tâ€™Pol. Hoshi had been there to pick up the pieces, and now, nearly nine months later, what many had initially considered to be a rebound relationship was beginning to look like a permanent fixture.

â€œWe both think itâ€™s a good idea, Malcolm. I wouldnâ€™t be asking otherwise.â€ She paused. â€œI like you. I respect you. I think youâ€™d be a good father. I know these arenâ€™t ideal circumstances, but â€¦ I know youâ€™re not with anyone â€¦â€ she trailed off with an apologetic shrug.

Youâ€™re telling me, thought Malcolm. His affair with Hayes had ended months ago, and the last heâ€™d heard, the major was happily shacked up with Corporal Chang. More recently, since theyâ€™d become stranded in the past, it had seemed like Trip was trying to get close again. Malcolm had to admit he was sorely tempted by the other manâ€˜s tentative advances, but he knew Trip had been involved with Tâ€™Pol, and perhaps still was, and after everything the other man had put him through after the Xindi attack, he was more cautious than ever about giving his heart. It had been torn up and thrown back in his face once too often.

And yet â€¦ perhaps Hoshiâ€™s offer might provide the ideal antidote to the feelings he still had for Trip. A child of his own, without the complications or commitments inherent in a relationship.

â€œIâ€™m very flattered that you thought of me, Hoshi,â€ he stammered at last, surprised by the blush rising up his neck. â€œIf you donâ€™t mind, Iâ€™d like to take some time to think about it. Having children â€¦ itâ€™s not something Iâ€™ve ever considered before.â€

Hoshiâ€™s smile lit up her face as she rose from the chair. â€œOh, I didnâ€™t expect you to say yes straight away,â€ she said, placing a hand on his arm as he rose as well. â€œI only hoped you wouldnâ€™t say no.â€

â€œIâ€™m not. Just â€¦ give me a little time, Hoshi.â€

â€œTake all you need,â€ she said, pausing by the door. â€œBut remember, thereâ€™s no-one on board Iâ€™d rather have as the father of my first child.â€

~~~

*Eighteen months later*

Trip was jealous. He acknowledged it freely as he sat alone in the mess hall watching the extended family gathered around a table across the room. Hoshi hovered solicitously beside the heavily pregnant Amanda, Will Kemper was seated on her other side, his arm thrown protectively over the back of her chair, and Malcolm was bouncing six-month-old Yoshiko on his knee. He was jealous of the of the little girl who could bring so much joy to the straight-laced Englishmanâ€™s eyes. He was jealous of Hoshi, whom Malcolm looked at with real affection, and he was jealous of Malcolm himself - of the family he had helped to create. Oh, Hoshi and Amanda were still clearly devoted to each other, but there could be no doubt in anyoneâ€™s mind how important the two women considered their childrenâ€™s fathers.

Trip cast his mind back to the one and only night he had spent with Malcolm. Theyâ€™d been dancing around each other for months, but at long last Trip had finally worked up the courage to ask Malcolm on a date, and much to his surprise, Malcolm had agreed. Theyâ€™d had a late dinner together in the mess hall, which was nothing unusual, but somehow there was a subtly different quality to their conversation now that each man had acknowledged their attraction was mutual. Malcolm had been relaxed, teasing, flirting, and when at last theyâ€™d stumbled, giggling, into Malcolmâ€™s quarters, Malcolm had given Trip a sexy smile as heâ€™d reached up behind Tripâ€™s head and guided him down to Malcolmâ€™s waiting lips.

Their first kiss had been slow and sweet and passionate, full of the promise of things to come. Trip couldnâ€™t get enough of Malcolmâ€™s wonderful taste, and as their tongues had duelled in each otherâ€™s mouths, heâ€™d felt a wave of heat pulsing through his groin. Malcolm had kissed him fiercely, taking possession, marking his territory as he eased Trip down into the bed. Theyâ€™d peeled away each otherâ€™s clothing, gasping and sighing with pleasure as they touched and kissed each otherâ€™s bare skin for the first time, and then theyâ€™d made love, slowly and tenderly, and as Trip had reached his climax heâ€™d clung to Malcolm, moaning his name as his body convulsed in ecstasy.

â€œI love you,â€ heâ€™d whispered, once Malcolm had fallen asleep in his arms. Then heâ€™d buried his nose in Malcolmâ€™s silky dark hair before falling asleep.

It had been beautiful, wonderful. It had also been the night before the Xindi had attacked Earth, and over the next few weeks, in his anger and grief, Trip had turned his back on Malcolm, and their relationship had ended before it had really begun.

Trip sighed, pushing the memory away as he turned back to his PADD, attempting once again to memorize the vows for the Vulcan ritual he and Tâ€™Pol would perform in a few daysâ€™ time. He allowed himself a small, humourless chuckle at his own expense. Of all the men on board, he had turned out to be the logical choice. According to Phlox, his Xyrillian pregnancy had somehow left his DNA more susceptible to combining with that of other species, including Vulcans. How ironic, and yet strangely appropriate. Heâ€™d been approached by a few women during the last two years, but somehow it had never seemed right to have a child with any of them. But then, a few weeks ago, Tâ€™Pol had come to his quarters, dressed in her Vulcan robes, and haltingly explained that she was entering her fertile phase - the so-called pon farr - when she must either mate, or die. She had asked for his help, and heâ€™d willingly agreed. In the absence of a desert planet, heâ€™d set about filling cargo bay three with sand, making it as Vulcan-like as possible for her, although his own mischievous nature couldnâ€™t help adding the miniature palm tree heâ€™d filched from the hydroponics bay. The scene was set, but for his part it would be a cold mating, done with affection but without passion. And if they did produce a child â€¦ He glanced over and saw Malcolmâ€™s wide, affectionate smile as he played with his daughter. Well, he thought, heâ€™d always wanted a son.

~~~

*One year later*

â€œThese force fields are gonna draw a lot of power,â€ Trip commented. He and Malcolm were making a preliminary survey, determining where the force field network could be tied into the shipâ€™s existing systems. It wasnâ€™t easy with all the damage they had suffered, and it was hot, sweaty, cramped work, involving a great deal of crawling through maintenance shafts.

â€œWith the new power transfer grid the Icarans gave us it shouldnâ€™t be a problem,â€ Malcolm replied. â€œItâ€™s five times more efficient than what we had. And force fields will be much more effective than the emergency bulkheads at protecting the critical areas of the ship.â€

â€œWhich now includes the family quarters,â€ Trip said, a smile pulling at his lips as he thought about his infant son. He didnâ€™t notice Malcolm gazing at him curiously.

â€œSo - Lorian?â€ Malcolm inquired. â€œNot Charles Tucker the fourth?â€

Trip smiled sheepishly. â€œDidnâ€™t seem appropriate somehow. Lorian is an old Vulcan name, apparently.â€ He paused, levelling his gaze at the other man. â€œDo you ever think about having any more kids?â€

A smile spread across Malcolmâ€™s face, lighting up his eyes, and he gave a small shrug. â€œSometimes. Ensign Justman asked me a while ago, but I decided it would be a bad idea. I donâ€™t think I would be comfortable sleeping with someone whoâ€™s under my direct command.â€ He paused. â€œBut yes, I think I would like to have another child some day.â€

â€œYou should,â€ Trip said, allowing a little mischief to enter his tone. â€œFatherhood suits you; itâ€™s knocked off some of those razor-sharp edges.â€

â€œWell, a daughter will do that for a chap,â€ Malcolm quipped, but his tone held warmth and humour, and something Trip recognised from long ago, something heâ€™d never thought to hear again in this lifetime.

His heart leapt into his throat. â€œMalcolm â€¦?â€ he whispered, but whatever he had been about to say was lost when Malcolm leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Time seemed to slow almost to a standstill as their lips touched. Trip closed his eyes, savouring the moment, the warmth, the taste and the nearness of the other man. He couldnâ€™t believe it was really happening, that this man whom heâ€™d loved for so long was really kissing him. As Malcolm finally pulled back, Trip drew in a long, shaky breath.

â€œIâ€™m sorry.â€ Malcolmâ€™s voice seemed to reach him from far away, and he shook himself as the words finally penetrated his own haze of joy. â€œIâ€™m sorry, I thought you might still feel â€¦â€

â€œNo, I do, Mal, I do!â€ he said, suddenly galvanised into action, belatedly realising he hadnâ€™t responded. Heâ€™d simply stood transfixed while Malcolm kissed him. â€œI just â€¦ you took me by surprise, is all. I didnâ€™t know you still felt that way.â€

â€œI never stopped, Trip. I just â€¦â€

Trip placed his finger across Malcolmâ€™s lips, silencing him. â€œI know, Malcolm. I hurt you. I pushed you away when I should have held you close. How can you ever trust me again?â€

He watched as a new warmth entered Malcolmâ€™s stormy grey eyes. â€œIt took a long time, Trip. And, believe it or not, having Yoshiko helped. I tried to deny it for a long time, but sheâ€™s taught me that love isnâ€™t conditional. And â€¦ I think maybe Lorian has taught you the same lesson?â€

â€œYeah, I guess so,â€ Trip said, feeling the characteristic swelling in his chest he associated with his son. â€œIâ€™ve finally let go of the hate.â€

â€œIn that case,â€ Malcolm said, stepping even closer until their chests were pressed together, and sliding his arms up around Tripâ€™s neck, â€œIâ€™m still waiting for you to kiss me, Mister Tucker.â€

~~~

*Six years later*

â€œOh, Trip!â€ Malcolm gasped as his orgasm uncoiled in his belly, spiralling out from his groin until finally he threw his head back as his release washed over him.

He collapsed down beside the man who had been his partner for the last six years, utterly spent, his skin slick with sweat as he panted from the effort of loving Trip. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, and then he gave a contented purr as he rolled over into his loverâ€™s waiting arms, snuggling closer as Trip rained gentle kisses on his cheeks and nose and lips. 

It had been the best birthday ever, spent with his friends, his lover, and both their children. And after the party theyâ€™d retired to their quarters, to their bed, and made love. Even after six years together, Malcolm never tired of making love to Trip. 

Theyâ€™d taken things slowly the second time around, spending a long few months getting to know each other and learning to relax in each otherâ€™s company again, just dating and talking and spending time together, limiting themselves to chaste kissing and holding even when they were in private. It had been a long wait, but Malcolm had known it was necessary to repair the damage theyâ€˜d done to their relationship. And it had been worth it in the end.

Malcolm still liked to cuddle, lying together in the afterglow. He loved to feel the warmth of Tripâ€™s body moulded against his own, strong arms wrapped tightly around his waist and their legs entwined. He relished the skin to skin contact, the warm weight of Trip in his arms, the hot gusts of breath against his neck, the feel of Tripâ€™s skin and soft, furry body-hair and the glow of perspiration on his skin.

â€œI love you,â€ Malcolm whispered, kissing Trip tenderly.

â€œAnd I love you,â€ Trip murmured, shifting a little, sending a small thrill of pleasure through Malcolmâ€™s sated body.

They lay like that for a long time, neither speaking, enjoying the closeness as Trip ran his fingers gently over Malcolmâ€™s bare skin. Heâ€™d almost dozed off when Trip spoke again.

â€œMal?â€ he murmured into Malcolmâ€™s hair.

â€œHm?â€ Malcolmâ€™s response was a sleepy grunt.

â€œWhat would you think if I had another kid with Tâ€™Pol?â€

Malcolm raised his head and gazed down at his loverâ€™s pensive expression. â€œI thought Phlox said we werenâ€™t supposed to have two children by the same person?â€

â€œItâ€™s kinda different for her,â€ Trip said. â€œIâ€™m her best chance of conceiving, and even thatâ€™s slim. With any other man, itâ€™s non-existent. Itâ€™s nearly time for her pon farr again. She needs to mate. Lightning might not strike in the same place again, but she thinks we might as well try.â€ He paused, seemingly trying to gauge Malcolmâ€™s reaction. â€œBut only if you agree.â€

â€œDo you want to?â€ Malcolm said. Surprisingly, he didnâ€™t feel any jealousy at the thought of Trip with Tâ€™Pol. Theyâ€™d talked about Tripâ€™s relationship with the Vulcan many times in the last six years, just as theyâ€™d discussed Malcolmâ€™s affair with Hayes, and they were confident and secure in their love for each other.

â€œKind of. Iâ€™d like another kid, even if itâ€™s not with Tâ€™Pol. I always wanted lots of kids.â€

Malcolm nodded. His own second daughter, Madeline, had been born just over a year ago, and he knew Trip had been a little envious when Crewman Cutler had asked Malcolm to father her third child. Trip had grown up in a big, noisy family, and he often volunteered to baby sit for other crewmembers. Malcolm rather suspected he was compensating.

â€œIn that case, I think you should probably â€¦ assist Tâ€™Pol again,â€ Malcolm said carefully. Then he smiled, hugging Trip tightly. â€œBesides, Lorian could probably do with a few Vulcan siblings.â€

~~~

*Seven years later*

â€œGet outa here, Malcolm, thatâ€™s an order!â€ Sparks fizzed noisily throughout the almost empty engineering compartment. Trip, out of options, had ordered his staff to evacuate; only he and Malcolm were left.

â€œNot bloody likely! You canâ€™t do this alone,â€ Malcolm coughed, holding his sleeve across his nose and mouth in a vain attempt to prevent himself breathing the deadly leaking gas.

â€œMalcolm.â€ Trip paused in his attempts to stop the coolant leak long enough to grasp his loverâ€™s shoulders. â€œPlease, Malcolm, I donâ€™t want you to die.â€

A smile quirked the Englishmanâ€™s lips. â€œIâ€™d rather die with you than live without you,â€ he said. â€œBesides, the compartmentâ€™s sealed. I wonâ€™t open it again and let the plasma coolant contaminate the rest of the ship. Now, show me what we need to do, we donâ€™t have much time.â€

â€œRight,â€ Trip said, at last accepting that his lover wouldnâ€™t leave his side.

They were dead already. They both knew that. Only a few minutes of exposure to the poison gas was enough to kill a man. They had perhaps seven or eight minutes before they lost consciousness; eight minutes to manually open the fused exhaust ports, venting the superheated plasma, and shut down the warp drive. Eight minutes to prevent the ship being blown apart in a runaway chain reaction that would culminate in a warp core breach.

Trip crushed Malcolm to him in one last, fierce kiss, even as the noxious stench of the coolant grew stronger. And then they parted, each to his task, sacrificing themselves for their crewmates, their children, and Earthâ€™s future.

~~~

*Two days later*

The clean-up crew had found them, Archer recalled as he gazed at the two coffins lying side by side in the launch bay. Theyâ€™d been wrapped in each otherâ€™s arms, overcome by the plasma coolant, but not before theyâ€™d saved *Enterprise* and everyone on board. His two best officers. His two closest friends. Devoted to the last.

He had nothing to say, no eulogy to deliver. How could he sum up his feelings for these two men in only a few words? How could be begin to honour their memory; their contribution to this ship and this mission?

His eyes involuntarily sought out their children. Yoshiko Sato-Reed, as she called herself now, in honour of her fatherâ€˜s memory, stood with Hoshi, sobbing quietly into her motherâ€™s shoulder. Fourteen-year-old Lorian seemed much younger than his years, his expression one of bewilderment, unable as yet to comprehend what his father had done. And even the two younger girls, Elizabeth and Madeline, were subdued, playing quietly at their mothersâ€™ feet. This was a generational ship, but he hadnâ€™t thought to lose two of the first generation so soon, before their children were fully grown. Before their time.

He glanced at his wife, and at his own children standing close by. Some day it would be him lying dead. Some day, he would have to hand this mission over to a new captain. The magnitude of the task suddenly closed in on him, and he pushed it roughly aside, coming back to the moment, to Trip and Malcolm.

â€œTrip and Malcolm,â€ he said at last. â€œTogether in death, as they were in life. May they rest together in peace.â€

~~~

*Epilogue - February 7th, 2154*

Malcolm Reed stood in a quiet corner of the engine room on the other *Enterprise*, fingering the small plaque Travis had discovered while he was helping Trip and Lorian to repair the power coupling theyâ€™d damaged during the brief but ugly fire-fight. On it were two names - Tripâ€™s and his own. It was obviously a memorial, but it bore no date, no other inscription, no indication of why or how they had died. At least it was a marker, he thought, an acknowledgement that he had existed. And if he and Trip couldnâ€™t be together in this life, it was a comfort somehow to know that theyâ€™d died together. At least neither of them had died alone.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that, unusually, he didnâ€™t hear the woman coming up behind him until she spoke. â€œEnsign Mayweather said I might find you here,â€ Karyn Archer said softly, linking her arm through his. â€œIf you have a few minutes, thereâ€™s someone whoâ€™d very much like to meet you.â€

â€œWho?â€ he said, curious. â€œAnd why?â€

â€œMy father,â€ she replied. â€œYouâ€™ve been his hero since he was a little boy. Heâ€™s the chief of security on our *Enterprise*.â€ She paused, a knowing smile pulling at her lips. â€œAnd his name is Charles Sato-Reed.â€

 

THE END


End file.
